


Nine Tenths

by Laylah



Category: Valkyrie Profile: Silmeria
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-13
Updated: 2009-11-13
Packaged: 2017-10-02 15:21:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laylah/pseuds/Laylah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Look," he says, "we're in this together. Whatever side we're on, I think it's the same one." He smiles a little, just until it pulls at his scar. "I'm <i>your</i> einherjar, right? Wasn't that the argument?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nine Tenths

Rufus's arrows arc overhead, trailing light as they slam down into the vampire. It backs away, claws raking at the air, and Hrist's halberd flashes out in a long, sweeping strike that hooks the thing by its ugly flailing arm to drag it back into range. It's mostly taken care of now. All it needs -- Arngrim steps into the space Hrist left him -- is one more good smack. He swings downward, pivoting, and the vampire manages one last howl of outrage before it's torn in half and its pieces splatter outward. Its friends flee, baying in panic. Fucking uppity undead.

Present company excepted.

"Well slain," Brahms says, and the hair on the back of Arngrim's neck stands up. He can't help it. He _likes_ Brahms, even -- anybody who'd tell Odin to piss off is a good guy in his book -- but there's something eerie about him all the same.

"Thanks," Arngrim says. He looks up in time to catch Hrist giving them both a dirty look, but he doesn't really have time to dwell on it, because then Alicia stumbles -- and it's kind of funny the way that makes all of them jump to catch her. Well, almost all of them. Lenneth's a bit slower off the mark, but she hasn't been around all that long. The princess'll win her over yet.

"You okay?" Rufus says, letting Alicia lean on his arm. He's a goddamn puppy over her lately.

"Fine," Alicia says, with that smile like she's being brave, but Arngrim doesn't think she's fooling anyone.

"Your body is taxed to its limits," Brahms says, and Rufus makes a face like he doesn't want anyone else thinking about Alicia's body. "We should rest. You will need your strength."

Alicia looks at the valkyries. Arngrim knows that look -- it's the one grunts give their captain when they hope they'll get a break but don't really expect one.

"Lezard is," Lenneth starts.

"He will wait," Hrist interrupts. She doesn't look at any of them. "We need to recover Gungnir, but not so badly that we should drive ourselves to exhaustion before we reach him."

Lenneth blinks at her. "You would know better than I how dire the situation is in Asgard," she says. Arngrim can translate that, too: this is your fuck up, not mine.

"And I say we rest," Hrist says. She's still looking out at the golden plain in front of them. "I will scout ahead, and see if I can determine our route. Keep Alicia safe."

She walks off without looking back. Arngrim watches her go. He sort of misses the outfit she wore as Leone -- those pants did a damn fine job of showing what she had -- but the view still isn't bad at all.

When he looks back at the others, Brahms has taken up a sentry position on top of one of the black volcanic rocks, perched there on his haunches, the red fire crawling over his hands. The princess is sitting in the shadow of the rock, pretending not to be exhausted while Rufus sits a respectable distance away pretending he's not looking for an excuse to touch her. They're both bad at faking it. Lenneth is looking at them like she's not sure what to make of them. Yeah, she'll come around.

"I'm going after Hrist," Arngrim says, slinging his sword over his shoulder.

"If she would thank you for worrying about her," Lenneth says, "then she is more different than I realized."

"I'm not worried." Arngrim shakes his head. "And she wouldn't thank me for it. I just need to talk to her about one or two things." They haven't had a chance to slow down since they fled Valhalla, and he keeps turning that _my einherjar_ thing over in his head. He's not even sure what he wants to say, exactly -- this is more complicated than explaining to some tavern wench that you're not ready to settle down just yet and anyway how can she be sure the baby's yours.

Lenneth smiles. "I wish you luck, then," she says. "My sister has always been stubborn."

"Thanks," Arngrim says. He waves to the others. "I won't be too long." Alicia waves back, and Arngrim heads off after Hrist.

If he didn't know there was a madman behind it, he thinks he might like this place all right. Now that they've gotten past the first gate, anyway. The gray stone and sharp cliffs of the tower's base were a bitch, but the golden fields up here are pretty nice. There isn't even much trouble to run into around here -- oh, there should be, sure, but all Arngrim sees is the curl of oily smoke left where something has already met its match. He follows the dirt path and the trail of victories to the rock face where Hrist is standing, looking out over the terrain.

"How's it look?" he asks, when he reaches the base of the rock.

Hrist jumps down. "There's more to come, after this," she says, "but I think I've spotted the gate." She looks him over coolly. "And you? Have you tired of the lord of the undead's company?"

Arngrim rolls his eyes. "Jealous?" he says. That seems ridiculous.

"Wary," Hrist corrects him. "I would not have you repeat his error." She folds her arms, looks away. "For I will not repeat Silmeria's."

"You think Freyja sees it that way?" Arngrim asks.

"How dare you," Hrist says, and raises her hand like she's about to hit him. He catches her wrist before she can -- either he's getting better or she's not trying very hard -- and she glares at him. "Let go."

He doesn't. "Look," he says, "we're in this together. Whatever side we're on, I think it's the same one." He smiles a little, just until it pulls at his scar. "I'm _your_ einherjar, right? Wasn't that the argument?"

Hrist _blushes_, and pulls her hand free. "That does not mean anything so vulgar as you imply," she says.

"I'm not implying anything," Arngrim says. "You saved my life back there. Thanks."

"I didn't -- I would have done -- I don't understand what you've done to me," Hrist says. "All of you. Silmeria. Alicia. You."

Man, when she can't even lie to him to save her pride, she has to be a mess. "It's all right," Arngrim says. He takes a step closer, and she backs up, against the rock, so he takes another one. "You do this with your einherjar?" he asks, cupping her face in one hand. "Or was that just a special perk for your mercenary?" He waits right there for her answer, because if she says no and he's not listening, she'll make him damn sorry.

"I am a valkyrie," Hrist says. She catches him by his belt and holds on. "I do not consort with mortals."

That's a load of crap and they both know it. "If that's how it is," Arngrim says. He takes about half a step back.

Hrist tightens her grip and pulls him back to her.

All right, fine. If she wants to say no and mean yes, well, it's fucked up but that's her problem, not his. Arngrim leans down and kisses her hard, not waiting for any more fucking permission. Hrist kisses back, angry, her teeth cutting his lip, and when he pushes one thigh between hers she grinds against him like she's starving for it and growls into his mouth. Valkyrie lapdog, Rufus said. Heh. He doesn't know the half of it.

Arngrim pulls out of the kiss -- and kissed stupid looks even better on her now than it did when she was Leone -- and reaches down to pull her skirt up out of the way. He's expecting her to have something on under there, but there's nothing but bare skin, coarse hair and her cunt already wet.

"_Fuck_," he says, because he's not going to be able to get that out of his mind, and that's the kind of thing that could really distract a guy when he's trying to fight.

Hrist claws at his arm when he pushes a couple fingers in there, says, "Ah, you -- ah --" like she wants to curse and doesn't know how. Who do you swear by when you _are_ one of the gods, anyway?

He can ask later if he remembers. "Yeah, all right," Arngrim says. He unslings his sword from his back with his other hand, lets it fall beside him, because he can't get down on his knees while he's wearing it.

When he kneels like that she hisses, like she can't believe it, like she wants it real bad. "Hold your skirts up, battle maiden," Arngrim says. "How long has it been since you let anyone worship you properly?"

"You think too much of yourself," Hrist says, but her voice is shaky and her cheeks are pink and he can smell her cunt, and he doesn't think she means it at all. She pulls her skirt up out of the way and he slides his fingers out of her, splays both hands across the tops of her thighs to hold her spread open.

She tastes almost human, just a little too sharp, a little like that crackling light she summons when she's finishing something off. It makes the hair stand up on the back of his neck when he licks her cunt, and maybe there's something wrong with him that he gets hard for things that he knows are dangerous, but what the Hel.

Arngrim tilts his head just a little to get the angle and bites, carefully, catching her folds between his teeth. Hrist moans, harsh and startled, and when he licks her clit while he has her caught like that she snarls a hand in his hair hard enough to hurt.

"Don't stop," she says. Her thighs tremble. He growls, and bites down a little harder as he licks her. If there was anything left alive to hear the noise she's making, they'd have company by now, but she's too thorough for that, too good a killer.

Still, even if there isn't any trouble coming, eventually the rest of the party will come to check up on them. Arngrim reaches down to get his belt unbuckled and his pants open. Hrist shivers, holding on tight to him, and her moans get higher, more breathy, until -- yeah, there she goes, coming for him so he can _taste_ how much she likes it.

He wipes his mouth on the back of his hand, gets both hands under the backs of her thighs. "My turn," he says, lifting her up, her back to the rock wall, her thighs spread in his hands. She's so fucking slick it's easy -- he slides right in, and she's warm and tight around his cock, and he wasn't letting himself think about how much he missed this but _damn_, it's good now that he has it.

"Like a conqueror," Hrist says, wrapping her legs around his waist, clinging to his shoulders. She sounds hungry, still, pleased and savage and -- he doesn't _have_ to be careful with her, Arngrim thinks. She's not human. He can't hurt her so easily.

He thrusts hard, driving her back against the wall, and Hrist flexes her thighs, pulls him deeper. "Fuck," he says, "that's right, yeah -- you like it rough, don't you?"

"Show me your strength, mortal," she says, and she's smiling like they're on a battlefield. "Show me that you are worthy."

"Show me how much you like it," Arngrim answers, and pushes one hand down between them so he can press against her clit while he fucks her. Hrist tosses her head, her teeth bared, like she barely started to come down from the last one and it won't take long to get her off again. And a good thing, too, because Arngrim can already feel that slick heat getting to him. "Come on," he says, "do it, I want to feel it -- give it to me --"

"Take it," Hrist answers, clawing at his back, and then she's clenching tight around him and Arngrim doesn't even have the breath left to curse, just holds on and keeps thrusting and comes hard.

He looks down and meets her eyes, when he's caught his breath a little, and she stares up at him like she's daring him to say something about this. Like _he's_ the one who's been making it a big deal, or something. "Thanks," he says, because that's just polite, and slides his hands under her thighs again to let her down easy when he pulls out. "You want to head back?"

Hrist looks a little off-balance for a second, like maybe she expected -- wanted -- something to be different after all, but then she nods. "They'll be wondering where we went," she says. She straightens her skirt, not looking at him, while Arngrim buttons his pants and buckles his belt again.

"Yeah, wouldn't want to keep Midgard waiting, right?" he says, picking up his sword. "Let's get this shit taken care of and go home."

Maybe after that, if she's still acting weird about him, they can see about maybe making this more serious. He'll think about it, anyway.


End file.
